A Thousand Years
by CrossingTheBoundary
Summary: Of cheating nations, drunken nights, and unreciprocated feelings.


"F-francis!", Alfred squeaked, feeling the French man's lips on his neck.

"Hush, mon cher. Someone could hear," the older nation whispered with a voice of velvet into the other's ear, sending shivers up his spine. Alfred bit his swollen bottom lip as to prevent any more sounds from escaping. It served a bit useful, but by then, it was already too late; someone had heard them.

Outside the closed office door, Matthew sighed and shook his head. When were those two ever going to learn? They should consider themselves lucky that it was only he who ever heard the obvious slip ups. They should consider themselves lucky he kept it to himself. But most of all, they should consider themselves lucky he never spoke to Arthur, Alfred's actual boyfriend, about it. Well, it's not like he'd pay him attention anyways; Matthew was practically invisible to the world – in a literal sense, too.

Everything confused him. Why would Alfred turn to Francis when Arthur, ever loyal, gave him everything he could ever want? He showered him with money, electronics, clothes, cars, anything you can name. Matthew was envious, so very envious. He didn't crave the products, no, he craved Arthur's love. He could never have it, but Alfred already did. It made Matthew furious that his brother took it for granted; for the second time in his life too.

After the Revolution, the first time Alfred threw Arthur away, the Brit was broken. His colony had left him, the colony he did so much for and loved. Matthew did not leave, instead he stayed by Arthur's side. His shoulder was the one Arthur cried on. He was the one who listened to Arthur's pained mourning. He, not Alfred, was the one to put aside his own feelings and make Arthur's his top priority. Yet, Arthur still chose Alfred as soon as he called. 'Why can't he see that I love him? That he's perfect in my eyes?', Matthew often found himself asking in his mind.

Matthew cradled Kumajirou closer in his arms as he swiftly, undetectably made his way to his seat in the World Conference room, next to where his brother would be. His violet eyes swept across the table, in pursuit of Arthur. 'That's odd, Arthur is always here at least fifteen minutes before Ludwig starts. It's already five until he does,' Matthew began to think, only to be interrupted by angry, but broken shouts from the corridor. Immediately, the Canadian recognized the voice; Arthur's. Curiosity struck, and before Matthew knew it, he'd scooted out of his seat and into the hallway, going unnoticed the whole time. Outside, he saw what he feared above all these days; Arthur found out.

"H-how dare you!", Arthur bellowed, glancing at Alfred, then Francis.

"Artie, it's not what it seems like!", Alfred attempted to cover up his actions pathetically.

"Okay, you weren't cheating on me. You weren't screaming 'Francis, more, harder!' every ten seconds. I completely believe you," Arthur seethed, the words heavily laced with sarcasm. He flung a hard glare in Alfred's direction.

"Angleterre, mon ami, we-", Francis started to explain, but just like Alfred, received a scowl strong enough to keep him from continuing.

"No, don't try to tell me that this isn't what's happening, because it is," Arthur declined coldly before looking to his boyfriend.

"I really loved you, you know that?", Arthur let his grief show for a moment. Tears swelled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Instantly, Alfred felt all the regret in the world come crashing down on him.

"Arthur," Alfred whispered, unable to get anything else out.

"Just go," Arthur said, turning away from the two.

"But,"

"No. Go to the meeting," he repeated, getting the two guilty nations to leave.

As soon as Arthur thought he was alone, he dropped to his knees, head in his hands and tears cascading in huge drops down his face. The sight of such agony broke Matthew's heart. Cautiously, he stepped over to the Brit, gently laying a hand down on his shoulder as he kneeled down by him. Arthur tilted his head up, only to lock eyes with Matthew for a split second before jumping into his welcoming arms. He sobbed for a long while, soaking Matthew's clothes. But Matthew didn't care, Arthur always came first, no matter what the circumstances be. By the time Arthur had run out of tears to cry, Matthew figured that the meeting was already thirty minutes in. He sighed, knowing that Arthur probably would not be able to stand going to it, with Alfred and Francis there.

He nudged the slumping nation in his arms. "Hey, Arthur," named male slowly looked at Matthew, urging him to go on.

"I was thinking. Would you like to get a drink? I'm not going to the meeting, and I'm sure you weren't planning to either. It'd be a great way to forget what just happened," he encouraged. Without an audible reply, just a nod, Matthew stood and helped Arthur to his feet. He led Arthur out of the building and headed to his car. He knew of this great place that Alfred to him to once.

XXX

The way there was spent in a comfortable silence, not a word was spoken. That changed when the two started drinking. Let's just say Arthur was a drinker that couldn't hold his liquor, and things got a little too out of hand.

"Hah! Who needs Alfred and Francis?", Arthur slurred, climbing on top of the counter beginning to strip.

"Arthur! Your clothes!", Matthew, alcohol-free, exclaimed.

"I'm king of the world!", he yelled, flinging his shirt off and twirling it around. Matthew watched with wide eyes full of horror.

"Sir! Please take your friend home or I'll have to call the cops to do it! This is the third time I've told you!", the bartender warned Matthew. Matthew pulled on Arthur's arm, successfully bringing him down.

"Woah!", Arthur giggled, falling straight into the taller man's arms. He stared up at him with drooping eyes and a lopsided smile.

It was a struggle getting Arthur back the car, and even more a hassle getting him to stay seated. 'But I want to stay with you!' he'd say to Matthew as he placed him into the front seat. Matthew would say 'I'm right here next to you' to get him to pipe down. The rest of the ride back to hotel everyone was staying at was mostly like the one to the bar. It was for the most part quiet, with the occasional hiccup from Arthur, who fell asleep peacefully halfway there. After backing his car into a close enough parking space, Matthew lightly shook Arthur awake.

"Arthur, Arthur, wake up," Matthew gently urged. Arthur's eyes fluttered open, bright green eyes shining.

"Alfred? Where am I?", Matthew's world came crashing down on him. Arthur mistook him for his brother, just as everyone else did. He bit back a whimper and swallowed hard despite the anguish, reminding himself that Arthur was the most important.

"Hey, Artie! We're at the hotel," the Canadian tried with all his willpower to sound like an American, like Alfred. He even went as far as plastering a goofy grin close enough to resemble his brother's.

"You sound different," Arthur murmured before conking out again.

Matthew chewed his lip, trying hard to not break down. 'Of course I sound different. I'm not Alfred. I'm Matthew,'

XXX

Matthew set Arthur down on the bed, being cautious as to not wake him. Pulling up the covers around the sleeping body, Matthew admired Arthur. He stared longingly at his sleeping, peaceful face. He dared to lightly stroke his cheeks with the back of his hand, loving the softness of skin. He removed his hands to fix the stray strands of ashy blonde hair that were strewn on the cerulean bed sheets. Matthew was shaken from his own awe and stepped back when Arthur shifted and sat up groggily. In his lovely, emerald eyes there were hints of depression and lust. He gazed only into Matthew's eyes, obviously not being able to tell the difference between lavender and sky blue when he yawned out.

"Alfred, baby, come here. You've been a very naughty boy, haven't you? Just earlier today I caught you in a heated lip-lock with Francis. Aren't those mine, and only mine?", Arthur breathed seductively, motioning to Matthew's lips. He plucked the covers off of his body and got onto his hands and knees, slowly crawling towards the edge of the bed to where Matthew stood.

"Aren't they?", he repeated, growling possessively. Matthew nodded, eyes snapping shut as he was tugged down to the bed suddenly. Before he even got the chance to collect himself and regain the breath he lost, he found himself under Arthur with his lips on the others. His eyes widened. At first he struggled to push the older nation off of him, but after a while, he melted into the passionate kiss. Arthur gently bit Matthew's lower lip, earning a sharp gasp. He used the opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, exploring it thoroughly. He loved the way his name rolled off Matthew's tongue and he leaned back to kiss his neck instead. Somehow, the North American country flipped him over and took the dominant role, doing just as Arthur had done to him. He adored how much he was able to make Arthur writhe and moan. It sent shivers down his back. He was about to try to maybe take it further until-

"Alfred!", Arthur screamed, abruptly halting Matthew's hands from unbuttoning his shirt. Matthew shook his head, tears fogging up his glasses. While the British nation was still trembling and breathing heavily, Matthew climbed off Arthur and the bed. His eyes were downcast and his hands were clenched. 'Why can't he just understand?', Matthew couldn't keep himself from asking himself mentally. Again, he had to retell himself that Arthur came first, and right now, Arthur needed love. Maybe Matthew could show his love in ways other than physical ones. He took the other man up in his arms and plopped down on the bed. Unhurriedly, he rocked the other from side to side, cradling him like a baby. Hushed, Matthew offered soothing, comfortable words. The quietness of his smooth voice calmed Arthur, lulling him into sleep. Almost. He let his eyes droop, but was still fully aware of his surroundings.

"Maybe I can sing you something. Maybe something to describe this feeling. I mean, it's not like you're up anymore anyways. I can say whatever I want and you won't know it," he smiled sadly, tears rolling down his cheeks and onto Arthur's disheveled clothes. Arthur felt remorse and confusion. He hadn't a clue what Matthew was talking about, but he had a feeling he was the cause of those tears.

"Yeah, I'll sing you a song," he decided.

_I have died every day, waiting for you._

_Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years._

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

_And all along I believed I would find you._

_Time has brought your heart to me._

_I have loved you for a thousand years._

_I'll love you for a thousand more._

He finished, with a cracky voice. Tears overflowed in his eyes, falling in Arthur's hair. His sobs shook his body, making it hard for him to breathe. He tried multiple times to catch his breath, failing each time. Little did he know that Arthur was still up, and would remember everything the next morning. But Arthur would continue on just as he had before that night. He wouldn't speak to Matthew on a regular basis, nor would he stop mistaking him as Alfred at times. Yet, in his heart, he held a new gratefulness for his ex-colony. Even if it wasn't love, he felt that it was enough and drifted off to sleep once again, a newfound place for Matthew in his heart.

Still a crying wreck, Matthew whispered, "You're slowly killing me from the inside out, Arthur."

XXX

And done! Aw man, I've been wanting to write a UkCan ever since I started shipping it. To be honest, I'm really happy with how this turned out, even if it seems a bit rushed. I love this ship because it's so angsty and easy to write for. Oh yeah. I've never in my life been able to make myself tear up over my own writing, but today I did. You see what these boys do to me? I don't know if I'll be updating In the Hours of Night this week, so here's this. And watch out for a possible Ereri/Riren or JeanMarco fic.

I don't own Hetalia or A Thousand Years by Hidekaz Himaruya and Christina Perri.


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